


Can you try and smile?

by PushingBackTheNight



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Animal Death, But only in the first chapter!, Fluff, Frerard, Love, M/M, The fluff-part starts later in the stroy, i really don't know how to tag this, mobbing, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-01-04 21:01:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18351647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PushingBackTheNight/pseuds/PushingBackTheNight
Summary: Gerard always wanted to be an artist. But one night, when he enjoyed the special charm of New Jersey, something happened that changed his entire life!





	1. Prolog

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little warning (as I do before each of my stories xD): English isn't my mother tongue. So if you notice a mistake or something that is wrong with the grammar, please tell me so that I can correct it. Thanks :3
> 
> I hope you enjoy my little Story :D

New Jersey was nice at night. It had a certain charm to see the neon signs and hear the music from the clubs. The nights were never quiet when you were outside. But that was exactly what made the city so special to Gerard. He loved this atmosphere, especially when it was a warm summer night. During those nights, he always sought a deserted place and drew. Most of the time he sat under a street lamp or took a flashlight to light his sketchbook.

But that night, his calm was disturbed when suddenly a group of boys his age (he was sixteen at that time) plunged into the street. It looked as if they were kicking a ball in front of them, which is why he quickly lost interest. His concentration was again at his image. It showed the house opposite, but in a disintegrated state, with a dragon that had just landed on it. Only on the Edge of his thoughts did he notice, that the group was approaching. Then something happened that would shape him for the rest of his life. He heard a desperate cry and looked alarmed up from his work. Another boy, who was definitely several years younger than the others, ran down the street, heading straight for the group. He threw himself on the ball and pressed it against his chest. Gerard watched the group laugh at him and got up to leave. Yobs, who fought over a ball, he really didn't need that. When he turned away, however, he heard the boy's whiny voice.

"No...Spike", he sniffled. "Why...why did you do that?! My Spiky was so small...why ..."

Gerard turned back to the scene and realized, with horror, that the ball wasn‘t a ball, but a small dog!

"Look! The crybaby!"

"Like a girl!"

"Not even my sister would cry for this ugly so-called dog!"

"Wimp!"

Screamed the boys and laughed. When the smaller one, in their midst, didn’t respond to the remarks, they began to kick him. That was when Gerard stepped in. He laid the backpack, with his drafts and drawing stuff, on the ground and ran to the group. There he placed himself protectively in front of the boy and his dog.

"Leave him alone! Look for someone your size!", he growled.

Now he recognized the group as well. It was Daniel Summer's gang. They only knew one language.

"What do you want to do about it, doll?“, one of them responded aggressively.

Yes, Gerard was not strong at all...at least he didn‘t look that way. But he could fight and he could do other things. In response to the remark, he drew a knife and sent it wisely through his hands. No one knew he had no idea how to fight with a knife and that was a good thing. They looked at him for a moment, then the tallest of them shook his head.

"Get out of here!", he shouted and they ran away.

Gerard let out a relieved breath. He had once taught himself the little knife tricks out of boredom. Who would have thought, that they would be useful once? The boy's sobs ripped him from his thoughts. Quickly he crouched down and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you hurt?"

He sniffed and shook his head, though Gerard could see the laceration over his eye and his bloody lip. But the boy didn‘t seem to notice. He started weeping at the fur bundle, he held in his arms. When Gerard followed his gaze, he clapped his hands over his mouth in shock. The boy was holding a pit bull puppy in his arms. The white-gray coat was covered with red spots and the little legs were broken. The head was strangely bent on the arm that held it. The puppy's chest didn‘t move anymore - it was dead.

‘With that injuries, that's the more gracious fate', thought Gerard, but said nothing.

Instead, he took off his vest and spread it on the floor. Then he stroked the puppy's head carefully. The boy looked up at him in disbelief.

"Come, put him down. We'll cover him and then I'll take you both home", Gerard explained.

Hesitantly, the boy did what he said and together they wrapped the puppy carefully in the vest. Then he took him in his arms again and stood up slowly. Gerard retrieved the backpack with his drawing utensils and then looked expectantly at the boy.

"You don‘t have to come with me...", he muttered, but Gerard shook his head.

"After all that has just happened, I will not let you run through the streets alone", he replied, reaping an incredulous look from the boy.

Then he nodded and started walking. Forty-five minutes they were walking and no one said a word. Gerard didn‘t know how to banish the silence and since the boy didn‘t try it himself, he decided that he just needed the quiet walk. Only when they stopped at a very posh-looking house did the boy mumble something again.

"Thanks...but you really don‘t have to come to the door with me."

"Nonsense", Gerard said. "That's the least I can do now."

The boy looked like someone had hit him again and Gerard thought the little dog was the reason for it. But he should quickly find out, that there was something else behind it. He had hardly rung the bell when the white door was already torn open and a big man appeared in it. He grabbed the boy by the shoulder and pulled him close, with an angry look.

"Where have you been again?!", he thundered and slapped the little one across the face.

He didn‘t seem to notice Gerard, who looked at the man in shock. How could one beat his child? Also, when you saw that it had been beaten up minutes before.

"Spike…he ran away again", the boy pressed through clenched teeth. "I was looking for him...But these boys kicked him to death...He's dead…my little Spike...“, again he started crying and Gerard hoped that his father would comfort him at least now - but that didn‘t happen either.

On the contrary! He snatched the bundle of fabric from his son and threw it out the front door, on the steps. Gerard's heart broke, as he heard the boy's desperate cry.

"The breed was useless anyway!", growled the man and pulled the boy, who was about to bend over to his dog, into the house.

Before the door slammed shut, the little one stared at Gerard, who took the bundle of cloth in his arms and pressed it against his chest. His eyes were full of tears but so infinitely grateful. Gerard nodded - a silent promise to bury the little puppy. Then the door slammed shut.  
   
Distraught from everything that had happened and the little dog pressed tight to his chest, Gerard ran home. Once there, he was welcomed by his mother with a warm hug.

'The stark opposite of the poor boy', he thought.

Then he told his parents what had happened. Yes, he even had to cry, when he described how much the boy had mourned for his dog. He didn‘t miss the incident with the father and wanted to know, what he could do about it.

"Nothing, darling", said his mother. "You have no proof. Besides, that was definitely a one-time affair. Adults sometimes have a strange way of showing that they were very worried. The father of the boy has certainly apologized. Imagine you would tell it the police and he only hit his son this once. Which light that would throw on this family...and which light it would throw on us."

Gerard loved his parents, but in such situations, he simply didn‘t understand them. Someone had to help the boy after all! But his parents forbade him to do that and he had been raised up to do what they said. He shouldn‘t get in any trouble. But at least they allowed him to bury the little dog in the garden. He even made a cross with 'Spike' written on it in beautiful letters.

At the grave of this little dog and with the picture of the boy in his head, he swore he would later do a job, that would enable him to help children in the same situation!


	2. Meeting on the high rise roof

"You've almost made it and we can all start our well-deserved closing time...At least you can because I still have a bit of work to do", said the young man, who stood on stage in front of the whole high school - laughter became loud and made him giggle too. "Finally, I would like to say that you can always contact me. Whether you or a friend of yours - or even someone you happen to see anywhere - being bullied or subjected to domestic violence. It's better to report too much on one occasion than one time too few...It could save some lives if you have the courage to stand up for this person! I have given each of your teachers enough business cards from my practice so all of you can put at least one in each pocket of your pants and backpacks. Don't be afraid to come to me with problems. I will help wherever I can. "

He completed his lecture at Elizabeth High School in New Jersey. Immediately there was applause and the principal of the school entered the stage.

"Thank you, Mr. Way", he said, offering his hand smiling to the young man, with fiery red hair. "I hope your speech has opened the eyes of some students."

"Oh, I'm sure it has", he replied, winking at the students.

The applause grew louder again, then he left the stage and headed straight for his brother. Mikey was waiting at the door leading to the gym and had a big grin on his face. He clapped Gerard on the shoulder as he arrived and together they left the hall.

"I think you made some girls' hearts beat faster", laughed Mikey.

"Nonsense...All right, maybe three or four..."

"Twenty four at least! As always!"

Gerard shook his head. He knew very well what effect he had on the students, especially the females. This also brought the biggest advantage with it. So he quickly found volunteers for his 'bullying demonstrations' and could sometimes put the popular students and bullies in the role of victims. It was extremely helpful to be popular with students. Because then they also gained more confidence and opened up to a psychologist or social worker. Since Gerard was both, he could help the kids better.

By now, he had made a name of himself, with his anti-bullying program and was increasingly being invited to schools and parental events. He also wanted the same success in his concept against violence in the family, but this topic was still as good as taboo, especially in this upmarket part of New Jersey...Who was he to claim that in this snow-white District, behind closed doors, the same force prevailed, as in the streets a few blocks away!

"Oh, Ray called by the way", Mikey said as they were leaving the school and headed for the parking lot.

Actually, Gerard normally stayed in the school for a while so the students could ask him questions. But today he still had an appointment, which he had to attend.

"What did he want?"

"He seems to have some news on this one case you were so interested in."

Now he was listening. This case had bothered him forever, even before it became an official case. Still, he kept his curiosity in check until they were in his car.

"Out with it!", he almost shouted, as Mikey finally closed the car door.

"What?"

"The case! The news?"

Mikey shook his head and looked apologetically at his brother.

"I'm sorry, Gee. Ray didn't tell me anything. Strictly confidential, he said. I made an appointment with him tomorrow at three o'clock. You meet in your private office."

With private office, Mikey meant the roof terrace of the high-rise, in which Gerard's practice was. He just nodded and drove off. They still had to go to another school, where he should give a lecture. However, today was only the introductory talk. The closer they got to Belleville High School, the more nervous he became. After all, that was his old school and he hadn't been there since graduation.

"Is Nicoley still the principal?" Mikey finally asked.

"He is. However, this school year is his last. He said he is glad to stop seeing and listening to any lukewarm thieves", laughed Gerard.

Half an hour later, he parked next to the school and they both looked at the building, lost in thoughts. So many memories were attached to it. Good and bad, but above all funny!

Finally, Gerard poked Mikey lightly against the shoulder and made a gesture with his head towards the building. They both grinned, got out, and made their way to the Rector's office, which they still found blindfolded. Already as they walked across the yard, Gerard felt brought back to his school days. They had made so much nonsense here!

At the fire escape was still the sign 'Enter capital punishment forbidden!' Attached, which had been purchased because of her. Also the huge graffiti that he had sprayed on the right wall, right next to the entrance, and which showed a magician who seemed to enchant the front doors, was always there. At that time, they had had free work in art and he had accidentally discovered the paint spray cans in the store room. Of course, he had been sent to the rector because of this, but still got one from his art teacher. The fact that the graffiti was still there proved how much everyone had liked it. By that time he had thought he would become an artist in his later life. Gerard smiled at the memory of how many lessons he had spent drawing on his pad, instead of doing his job or copying the texts on the board. He still liked to draw, but with his new life's work, this hobby has moved farther and farther into the background.

At the fire escape was still the sign 'Don't enter! No one!' attached, which had been purchased because of them. Also, the huge graffiti that he had sprayed on the right wall, next to the entrance and which showed a magician who seemed to enchant the front doors, was there too. At that time, they had had free work in art and he had, of course, accidentally discovered the paint spray cans in the storeroom. He had been sent to the rector because of this...but still got an A from his art teacher. The fact that the graffiti was still there, proved how much everyone had liked it. By that time he had thought he would become an artist in his later life.

Gerard smiled at the memory of how many lessons he had spent drawing on his block, instead of doing his studies or copying the texts on the board. He still liked to draw, but with his life's work, this hobby has moved farther and farther into the background.

"Look!", Mikey pulled him out of his thoughts and pointed to a display case.

Gerard came closer and recognized a golden football under which the quarterback of the year had been immortalized. Mikey's name was written there.

"At that time no one would have thought that you would be a quarterback and then the best of the year!", he laughed and Mikey triumphantly raised his head.

"I've always been good!"

"That's right!", came a stern voice from behind them. "Not so often in sports, but rather playing tricks!"

They both turned around and looked into the aged face of their former principal. Mikey grimaced in a pout.

"You offended me!"

"Oh, I beg your pardon!", came the sarcastic answer.

Not a second later they all laughed and Gerard held out his hand to the man in front of him.

"Glad to see you, Mr. Nicoley," he said as he took his hand.

"On my part, Mr. Way. Come on, I think you two still know the way to my office. "

Again they had to giggle and walked side by side through the school corridors. It was quiet for a moment and Gerard used it to let his eyes wander over the closed doors. They passed his old art-, german-, and history room. Smiling, he thought back to the time he had spent there, even though he often wished he would never have to see the school again from the inside.

Once in Nicoley's office, he and Mikey sat down on the leather armchairs in front of the desk and the principal took a seat behind it. He folded his hands on the table in front of him and looked at them over his glasses.

"You feel like you're being set back in time, aren't you?", he asked.

"Yeah, but I hope we don't get in trouble this time", Mikey replied with a laugh.

They probably spent more time in this office than at the yard!

"I don't think so. However, I wouldn't have thought to see you both again and here you are."

"After all, you invited us. What can I do for you and the students? ", asked Gerard, knowing what the reason for the invitation was.

Belleville High School has always had one and the same problem. Here, the different layers met. There were rich and poor kids, maybe also some who stood in between, but they had always been rare. This difference in society often led to bullying. It had been like this in his time and he didn't think the situation had changed in the meantime. Even then he had often acted as a mediator, in fact, more than he could count. The well-being of all was dear to his heart...especially after this one night. After that, he had always interfered with a particular group and often got hurt too. But he wanted to help and if that meant he had to take a punch, he was okay with it. Today he preferred to fix it with words because today he knew how to defuse such situations properly.

"As you know, there have always been problems with bullying here. No matter if the rich kids started it or those from the poor parts of the city, there's always trouble", explained Nicoley. "Since you were against bullying when you were still at school, I thought you would like to help again. Hopefully this time with more success. "

"I had some successes back then, too", Gerard put in, grinning. "Even more than your teachers."

Nicoley nodded in agreement, then frowned as he remembered something.

"Only with this one boy never took any help from you...What was his name? Tom? Cal? Who always walked around with this impossible haircut? ", he made a gesture over his head to clarify what he said.

"Frank", Gerard said and immediately the grin disappeared from his face. "Frank Iero was his name. You're right...Unfortunately, I couldn't help him."

Nicoley probably noticed that the mood drifted in a direction that none of them wanted. So he decided to change the subject and finally ask questions about Gerard's program. However, this name haunted Gerard's thoughts again, which Mikey immediately noticed. He took over the rest of the meeting because he knew as much about it as his brother did. Gerard only intervened when a question was asked directly to him. After less than an hour, they left the office with an appointment for in two weeks.

Gerard said nothing all the way to the car and this time he didn't see the good and funny memories of this school. He saw the bad, the painful. He recognized the places where he had tried to protect a small boy from being beaten and failed. He saw the toilet in which he had found the same boy soaking wet and crying. But they also passed the spot where the little boy had thrown a punch himself for the first time. In the schoolyard, he could hear the students shouting in excitement, when the boy had beaten himself with the captain of the basketball team and just got away with a broken nose. He hadn't been able to help this boy, not then and not when he was first arrested.

"You can't save everyone, Gee", Mikey's voice suddenly sounded. "Frank didn't want your help. He probably wouldn't accept it now either."

Gerard just shrugged. He could try it, couldn't he? After all, he wasted his time and as long as it didn't keep him from his job, why not?

"Let's drive. I still have a pile of paperwork to do before I can finish work today", he said, ignoring Mikey's comment. "Shall I drop you off at home?"

Mikey sighed, nodded and got into Gerard's car. They listened to music during the ride and even sang along. Gerard wasn't really in the mood, you could tell by the fact that his voice didn't echo throughout the car. Actually, he liked to sing. He even once planned to sing in a band. But nothing came of it and somehow he was glad about it. In his current job, he could really help people. Whether that would have worked with a career in a band, he doubted. But you never knew. Maybe he would have succeeded. But these thoughts were unnecessary. He wouldn't start a band anymore! Who started a career as a singer at the age of twenty-eight...even in his favorite genre - Punk Rock? No, he had a job, he loved it and he wouldn't change it.

'Except making it clear to those self-important idiots in the upper class, that there are red spots in their snow-white world...lots of blood-red stains from all the abused children', he thought, tightening his grip at the steering wheel.

"What's up tomorrow?", Mikey tore him from his thoughts as he parked in front of Mikey's apartment.

"The meeting with Ray, not more, as far as I know."

"Then I'll take my day off tomorrow. I promised the boys at the Chaos to step in again for the sick bassist and help out behind the bar."

"Alright, have fun with it! Maybe I'll come over and see you", Gerard replied with a smile.

But Mikey shook his head and got out of the car. He stooped and looked inside the car again with a grin.

"Don't promise what you can't hold, dear brother."

Then he closed the door and Gerard watched him walk up the steps to the front door. He saw Mikey unlock the door, turn once more to wave to him goodbye and then disappear inside the house. After the door closed again, Gerard drove on.

He knew that Mikey wasn't mad at him. The last two times, when he had stepped in for John (the bassist of a local band whose name he just couldn't remember), Gerard couldn't go to the Chaos and watch his brother play. His work didn't allow it and Mikey knew how important it was for him. But tomorrow it could really work again. He actually only had the meeting with Ray as an appointment. Everything else was paperwork and he could do that at another time.

Slowly his mood improved and he turned the music on. Shortly he was thinking to insert a CD, but decided against it and listened to the radio, after all, he could follow the news like this. From time to time they brought something about the case that interested him. It took him an hour or so to get to his practice because he had got stuck in the after-work traffic. The sun was slowly setting and Gerard wondered if he should even start with the writing stuff. But if he didn't start now, he would have to do it tomorrow and he really intended to go to Mikey's little concert. So he sighed, got out of the car and went to his practice.

There he put his dark denim jacket on one of the chairs in the waiting area and went to his office, at the end of the short corridor. Once there, he dropped onto the comfortable leather chair, behind the desk, and opened a drawer to his left. The file he brought out was from a girl who had been at his practice the first time this week. She had a mild anxiety disorder and finally decided to accept help from her parents. These had arranged an appointment with him and brought her on Tuesdays. It turned out that the girl, Selma was her name, was suffering from a social phobia.

Not uncommon among young people with little self-confidence, these were the words of a former professor of Gerard. In fact, statistics said four to twelve percent of the world's population suffered from it. But Gerard hated statistics and the callous voice of his professor, who wanted to teach them the different types of anxiety disorders in a lecture of two hours. In Gerard's opinion, he could have talked about each of these forms for at least two hours.

Shaking his head, he withdrew from the memory of his student days and returned to the file on his desk. He typed the first session into his computer. To which results he had come and what impression Selma made on him. He was sure he could help the girl. It certainly took time, but together they would manage to make her feel at least not so uncomfortable and panicky in situations where she was in the spotlight (that was her biggest problem).

He did the same with the rest of this week's recordings. At some point, he had typed everything handwritten on the computer the same day. But then he had come to the decision, that it would be better to do this at the end of a week. In the beginning, it was a relief, because after his working days (which were often exhausting), he didn't have to spend hours writing all the notes again, even if it was much faster on the computer than by hand. But over time, it got on his nerves to have to write everything on Fridays. However, he had become so used to this system that he couldn't persuade himself to change it again. Too much he loved the extra free time during the week. Specifically, because he had the opportunity, especially in the summer months, to watch the sunset from his apartment.

It took almost two hours that night to type and print each handwritten note. Before Mikey had worked with him, he kept only the handwritten notes, but his brother had fairly quickly complained about his handwriting and dubbed it as 'pigs claw'. Gerard had told him that artists and psychologists had extraordinary handwritings. But Mikey insisted that he write everything on a computer if he should help him organize the files and tell them to doctors, parents, and sometimes the police. So Gerard did him the favor and added extra work. Nevertheless, he liked to do it because Mikey was the perfect secretary for him. What had started as a stopgap had now proven itself for two years and he really wouldn't want to miss his help.

With that in mind, he made his way to his apartment where he fell into his bed right after dinner. He loved giving lectures at schools, and he didn't know anything he would rather do, though he might only be able to help one child with it. But after that, he always felt dog-tired and fell asleep immediately when he pulled the covers over himself. However, he didn't really care, because these nights he slept best.

 

The next day he slept a little longer than normal. There was no work, he didn't have to prepare anything urgently and could once again take time for himself. At ten o'clock he got up, made breakfast, and sat at his kitchen table to read a book. The rest of the morning and midday he spent absorbing one chapter at a time and being carried off into a world where dragons and elves were real. He loved fantasy books above everything and could sink into them for hours. Only his alarm ripped him out and told him that he would meet Ray in an hour. He quickly dressed and made his way to his practice.

The door to the roof terrace was never closed and Gerard wasn't surprised that Ray was already waiting for him. They usually met up there. This had two reasons:

First, they could talk undisturbed. Nobody came to the roof, not even the caretaker. So they didn't have to watch over what they were talking about. They could talk about patients, talk about Ray's cases in court, just about anything, without fear that someone would overhear them and get information that was none of his business.

Second, they both loved the view from up there. New Jersey was far from the most beautiful city in the world and many people joked about it or said they never wanted to live there. But for people who grew up in this city, it was beautiful. It had its own charm and when you looked behind the dirty facades and the violence that prevailed in some parts, it was a beautiful city. Gerard used to love drawing it from a skyscraper roof, and even in these days, he was drawing the skyline sometimes.

Ray stood on the edge of the roof and looked down at the city, as Gerard stepped out of the door at the end of the emergency staircase. Immediately, a smile fell to his lips. They had been friends since childhood and both felt that this would always be the case. They were like brothers and even if they had lost sight of each other during their studies, they soon found each other again.

"Nice to see you, Ray", Gerard said as he stopped beside him and followed his gaze.

As a greeting, Ray pulled him into a hug, which was immediately returned by him. They spent the next twenty minutes telling each other what they had experienced in the past few weeks. Due to their time-consuming jobs, they were less and less likely to meet and have normal, non-work related chats. They always started with this at the beginning of their meetings and normally Gerard would have told a lot more or listened to Ray much longer, but today his curiosity was somewhere else.

"Mikey said you have some information for me", it suddenly burst out of him as Ray paused.

Laughing, he shook his head and sat on the raised edge of the roof. Gerard sat down next to him and looked at him expectantly.

"I wondered how long you can stand it until you can't hold this question back anymore."

"I am sorry but…"

"I know", Ray said, smiling and raising his hands reassuringly. "The little one is close to your heart, it has always been that way if I remember rightly. Even though I never understood why... "

Gerard shrugged. It's just like this - that was the answer his friends always got. He didn't want to reveal more, after all, it had forbidden his parents and even today he heard their words.

_What light would that throw on the family ... What light would that throw on us?_

"He would get out for good conduct in a month...", Ray began but was interrupted by Gerard.

"Would?"

"Yes. The condition is, that he visits a psychologist when he's out for at least a year. The lawyer assumes that he never agrees to it and prefers to spend his remaining time in prison. "

Gerard looked thoughtful. So he would be released if he went to a psychologist...that was the solution! Maybe he could help him like that? Maybe he would finally accept his help, if only for the reason that he wouldn't have to spend another year in jail. His thoughts were clearly visible on his face, for Ray, tore him out of them by placing a hand on his shoulder, just a minute later.

"Don't even think about it, Gerard! He didn't want your help at school and he certainly will not accept it now! You should finally complete the chapter Frank Iero. There are so many people you helped - this one isn't destroying your statistics."

"That's not the point, Ray", sighed Gerard.

Why did everyone always think it was about saving everyone he met, just to maintain his success rate. That was the thinking of people who thought about their profit and he certainly wasn't one of them!

"I'm not worried about statistics, success rates or anything else in that direction. Frank, he...", was he really going to tell him, after all the years he had kept it for himself? Maybe then at least Ray would understand it? "I once had the opportunity to help him...before everything got out of hand with him. I had met him when he was still an innocent boy crying for his dog, who had been kicked to death by some stupid teenagers. The same evening I found out that his stepfather was beating him and I really wanted to help this boy! But my parents forbade it...It would throw a bad light on his family and ours if my suspicions weren't confirmed. You know my parents, Ray. Appearance, the reputation of others, has always been the most important thing to them. I didn't dare to question their order and still go to the police. I didn't dare to help Frank, although I knew what was happening to him. I…"

He stopped and looked at his clenched hand. If he had acted then, maybe everything would be different today. Maybe he and Frank were friends and would meet on the roof terrace, just like Ray and he did. In any case, Frank would certainly have taken a different path and wouldn't be in jail for a double bodily injury.

"You feel responsible for him", Ray interpreted his words. "For him and for his situation, his behavior. But Gerard, that's not your fault! You were a kid yourself when all this happened. What could you have done? Even if you had gone to the police back then, do you really think Frank's stepfather would have admitted hitting his son or that Frank would have told the truth? You already know such cases enough. You are not responsible for what has become of him."

"Still, it feels that way and I really want to help him. Maybe I can finally do that."

A sigh sounded and Gerard looked at Ray. He shook his head but had a sincere smile on his lips. He turned a little more to Gerard and put a hand on his shoulder again.

"You really are a hopeless case, Gee. But fortunately, I know that and that you can't be persuaded by anything if you have something in mind. That's why I got you this."

He handed him a little note, which Gerard accepted in confusion. On the note was the name of a prison, a number (which looked very much like an occupant number) and a phone number. Gerard's face brightened up as he realized what that was. Stormy, he hugged Ray and thanked him with a beaming face.

"Promise me only one thing", Ray replied. "Don't get lost in something that you can't solve. Leave him alone if he doesn't accept your help."

"Promise", Gerard nodded, putting the note in the chest pocket of his shirt.

A short time later, they said goodbye to each other. Ray had to go back to his office and take care of a few more things. Gerard, on the other hand, made his way to the Chaos. It was already six o'clock and he wanted to drink something with Mikey.

When Gerard arrived at the Chaos, he immediately went to the bar and greeted his brother. Mikey beamed all over his face when he saw Gerard. They drank a non-alcoholic cocktail, as they later had to drive and Mikey wanted to know how it had gone with Ray. Gerard told him quietly but didn't drop Frank's name so no one who could have listened, might know about whom they where talking. Mikey just shook his head, but, like Ray, he knew he couldn't change his brother's mind.

"Will you stay for the concert?", Mikey finally asked.

"What do you think, why I'm here?"

Beaming, he hugged him and together they walked to the small stage in the back of the bar. Gerard sat down at one of the tables which stood there and Mikey disappeared behind the stage. Only twenty minutes later, the little show started. For this bar, many people had come, some even stood in front of the stage and cheered the band. Gerard tapped his foot to the beat of the music and after three songs, he joined the people in front of the stage. He knew the songs by heart by now, because Mikey had gotten him a demo CD of Fire (that was the name of the band!). The band was always happy when Mikey stepped in or came by for a guest appearance. Even in the Chaos, the band was now known and attracted more and more fans. Gerard was happy for the four musicians and of course for Mikey.

The concert lasted one and a half hours and after that, the party wasn't over for a long time. The music came from some CDs after that, but that didn't stop people from dancing. Gerard and Mikey were sitting at the bar, watching the small crowd in the room. They laughingly talked about their teenage years, in which they had immediately plunged into the crowd. It wasn't long before a man suddenly joined them and looked at Gerard with a somehow strange smile.

"Well, sweetie, may I get you something to drink?", he wanted to know and cocked his head.

Gerard looked at him a bit perplexed and slightly helpless, causing Mikey to burst out laughing. He put an arm around his brother's shoulders and kissed him on the cheek, knowing that Gerard was struggling to send someone away, even if he really wasn't interested in him, especially if someone surprised him.

"This sweetie here already got company, sorry", Mikey grinned at the stranger.

The man didn't look pleased about the put-down, but, thank God, made no difficulties and disappeared back into the dancing crowd. Gerard let out a relieved breath and hugged Mikey briefly. His brother had helped him out of situations like this before. Gerard had long been aware that he was gay and there were probably always men who looked at him immediately. Most of the time he even got involved in the games and had a few drinks. One or the other he had already taken home, but these cases were rare. Normally, he was also very good at letting someone flash off. It only became hopeless when he was surprised without any warning. Then he just couldn't think of an excuse why he didn't want a drink or why the man should leave him alone.

"What would I do without you?", Gerard muttered against his brother's shoulder.

"You would take a drink with Mr. Sweetie now and desperately try to get rid of him afterwards", laughed Mikey, patting him on the back fraternally.

They both laughed and talked for a while about this and that. At about eleven o'clock they set out for home. Although they had both free time tomorrow, but Mikey wanted to end the evening with his girlfriend and Gerard said he could already hear his couch calling. Outside the bar, they said goodbye and drove home.


	3. State Prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard meets Frank...what will happen?

Gerard sat at his desk, reading a doctor's report as someone knocked on his door. Sighing, he let the sheet sink and pinched his nose with his forefinger and thumb, because he had already started to read for the sixth time.

"Yes", he said loudly and raised an eyebrow as Mikey looked in the room. "I told you, I don't want to be disturbed in the next ten minutes. This report is important and I can not afford to overlook anything. "

"Well, then I'm not telling you that the Head of the State Prison is just waiting to talk to you", Mikey replied with a shrug.

Instantly Gerard's posture and facial expression changed. He looked slightly tense, but also full of energy. He put the report aside and pulled a blank sheet from a drawer of his desk. "Line one", Mikey said, then disappeared again. Gerard took a deep breath, reaching for his pen and then the phone.

"Psychological practice, Way", he rattled off the official greeting.

"The right Way this time?", a very authoritarian sounding, male voice wanted to know.

"Yes, Mr. Johnson, the right one. My brother works for me, as a secretary. This often leads to confusion. "

Gerard smiled a little at the thought. Many people who thought Mikey was him and vice versa. But these confusions were always cleared up quickly.

"It happens", the voice replied, and there was a hint of amusement in it, too. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Now probably the hardest part of the whole conversation came. He had to convince the head of the prison that he would be allowed to visit Frank officially as a psychologist.

"One of your inmates, Frank Iero, is scheduled to be released next month," he began. "Only on the condition that he goes to a psychologist for a year. I would like to introduce myself to Mr. Iero as this psychologist. "

There was a moment of complete silence between Gerard and the prison leader. Then a humming sounded and Gerard got ready for any counter-argument.

"Why would a respected young man, like you, want to look after a thug like Iero and, apparently, so much that you get confidential information?"

Gerard had expected everything, but not this question. But he still had an answer that would make the man calm and no suspicios...at least he hoped so. But he was very confident that he succeeded.

"Very easily. I would like to start a program for proper reintegration of violent offenders and Mr. Iero would be the perfect first client for it", Gerard said, hoping that Mr. Johnson wouldn't see through his excuse.

Again it was quiet at the other end and he got a bit nervous as this silence stretched out. But then he got an answer he had not expected.

"I usually think that criminals should not be reintegrated. But Mr. Iero is probably the exception in this case. The boy just grew up with the wrong people. Basically, he's not a bad guy...Maybe your program gives him the chance he needs", Mr. Johnson hesitated, then added. "But he has to seize the opportunity first. I don't know if Mr. Iero wants to get involved with your help."

"We'll see", Gerard replied. "So I have permission to talk to Mr. Iero?"

"Tomorrow, if you want. The question is if Mr. Iero wants to talk to you. But you will find out yourself."

Gerard slowly let out the breath he had held unconsciously. That was the first step to help Frank at last. Now he just had to take the help.

"Then tomorrow I will try to talk to him. Thank you, Mr. Johnson."

"Your welcome and good luck."

Gerard ended the conversation and leaned back in his chair. Nervousness wanted to sneak into his head, but he knew how to drive it away. Of course, Frank had always refused his help in the past, but maybe that would change now. Taking help in the schoolyard wasn't the same as accepting it in prison. Especially if you had the chance of having to sit a year less in this concrete box. For a moment Gerard closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander back to his school days. There was a memory of Frank that never went out of his head...probably because he had really hurt him for the first time.

At that time, Frank had beaten himself again with a classmate and nobody intervened. The teachers hadn't yet noticed and the students only cheered on the two rather than separate them. He could never watch for such a fight for a long time, whether Frank had been involved or not. So he also intervened here. He had grabbed the other boy by the back of his arms and pulled him off of Frank.

"Stop it! You are not thugs, are you?", he snapped at the boy in front of him.

"He always starts it!"

"Get lost before a teacher is here and you both get detention", Gerard had snarled, then looked at the rest of the students. "The spectacle is over! Go away!"

Since Gerard already enjoyed a good reputation among the students at that time, so most did what he said. Others stopped and the next moment Gerard knew why. He felt two hands grabbing him by the shoulders and turning him around. The next thing he remembered was that he was lying on the floor, staring into Frank's angry face, which was even slightly smeared with the blood spilling out of his nose. The left half of his face ached as if a horse had kicked him. Trembling, he put a hand to his cheek and felt tears well in his eyes. Nobody had ever hit him...

"Stay out of my business, Way!", Frank thundered, raising his fist for the next hit.

Gerard had pulled his arms over his face to protect himself and his eyes pinched together in anticipation of new pain. But it never came. Instead, he heard footsteps that moved away from him and when he opened his eyes again, Frank had disappeared from over him. He looked around briefly, found Frank again and stared at his back. The smaller one ran away from him, through the many students, who immediately gave way to him. Only when he had disappeared from Gerard's sight, he sat up and stared at the floor between his legs. He had wanted to help Frank because the other boy had clearly been stronger and how had Frank thanked him? He had hit him. Gerard would have expected himself to be angry. But he only felt sorry for Frank, who simply didn't take help.

Sighing, Gerard opened his eyes and noticed that he had unconsciously put a hand to his left cheek as if he still felt the pain. This incident hadn't stopped him from intervening in Frank's fights and quarrels and Frank had told him more than once, with his fists, that he should stay out of it. But he couldn't. He had developed a helper syndrome opposite him.

"One that hasn't weakened to this day", Gerard mumbled to himself and sighed again.

Then he got up and left his office. After all, he had to tell Mikey the news. He didn't look really excited and Gerard knew why. Mikey thought Frank didn't deserve his help. In the past, he had knocked it off so many times that, in his opinion, he shouldn't get another chance. But Gerard couldn't bring himself to be so cold. It wasn't Frank's fault that he had become the way he behaved today. That could have happened to anyone who grew up in the same circumstances. In fact, Gerard had some clients with the same behavior and they all had one thing in common: difficult family relationships and bullying at school or at work.

"Can you please cancel my appointments for tomorrow?", Gerard asked annoyed, as Mikey had finally used up all his counter-arguments.

"I can't stop you anyway, right?"

Laughing, Gerard shook his head.

"It was definitely worth a try...even if it was wasted air."

"You can try everything if it succeeds is the other thing", he replied.

After that, he had to banish Frank from his thoughts again, because his other clients deserved the same attention or even more because they wanted help. He talked to Tina, a young woman who suffered from depression and came to see him twice a week. Also, Leo and Charlotte had an appointment with him that day. The two were siblings and were taken out of a violent family. The children were fine in their foster family, yet they had not survived the events of their early childhood unscathed. Gerard, however, made progress with each session. Playfully, he got Leo to speak again because the little one had given it up completely and Charlotte, the older of the two, could finally talk about all her worries and fears from her heart.

After these three appointments, he left his practice and made his way to the park. There he met with some young people from the city who had decided to live on the street. He didn't approve of that since it made them easier to become the target of the gangs and quickly became involved in drug trafficking. But most of these kids saw no other way out. They felt that no one understood or cared about them. Gerard tried to make them feel that these views were wrong. He was interested in them, he understood them and he wanted to help them. There were some who accepted his help and others who didn't. Those who accepted the helped met with him twice a week. They discussed their plans for the future, Gerard helped them with their applications and went with them to the schools and companies they wanted to apply for. He went shopping with them and paid everyone a meal so they got something proper to eat at least twice a week. So he had already helped some to end life on the street and he was really happy about that. A handful of these people, in turn, helped him get even more street kids back to the normal life. They succeeded very well, although Gerard had to deal with authorities more and more often, but that was something he accepted with a smile as long as he could help.

He came home late but wasn't really tired yet. So he decided to paint a bit again. He fetched his sketchbook and pencils and sat down on the small balcony, which he could enter through his bedroom. With a puzzled shake of his head, he realized that he had only two spare pages in this block. That meant he had to get a new one the next time he went shopping. He closed his eyes for a moment and calmed his thoughts, then began to draw. The scene in front of him just had to be painted, though he's always been doing that lately. He just didn't tire of drawing the different sunsets that were given to him. Gerard loved sunsets, they always had something magical that he was trying to put in his pictures. That was one reason why he loved this balcony. He didn't have to look for a roof from which to draw, because the balcony was oriented towards the sunset.

As it got darker and he was having trouble seeing his picture properly (he was now almost touching the page with his nose, so far had he leaned forward), the many round solar lights went on, which he had distributed to the balcony years ago. Smiling, he leaned back a little and made the last improvements to the picture. Then he put the pen aside and looked at it. He was really happy with it. Smiling, he laid the sketchbook on the small table that stood beside him and looked up into the sky. There he could even see some stars, something that wasn't common in this city. It was just too bright. Nevertheless, the very bright stars sometimes managed to show themselves.

With his arms crossed behind his head, he looked at the glowing dots and thought about the next day. Would Frank finally accept his help and if so, then for real or just to get out of prison? Would he be able to help him at all or was this point long gone? But most important of all questions was whether Frank would get along with his methods or if he had to come up with something completely new, for this special case.

"We'll see you tomorrow", he murmured and yawned immediately.

When he sat outside on his balcony and watched the stars, time passed much faster. He had been there for three hours and slowly but surely was getting tired. So he took one last look at the glowing dots above him, then got up, picked up his drawing utensils and entered his bedroom. He immediately put his sketchbook in its place, in a drawer of the small desk that stood in his bedroom. He put the pens on it and, meanwhile, wondered if he should buy new ones if he would already buy a sketchbook, because these too, were slowly coming to an end. After everything was in place, he undressed and lay down in his bed. It was a hot summer night, so he decided to sleep in his boxer shorts and leave the balcony door open. A reckless decision, especially in this area where every night a house was robbed, but he didn't care. He would rather be robbed than lie in his bed and sweat like a pig in the oven.

 

The next morning he got up early, even if he didn't drive to the prison until noon. He wanted to write down a few more thoughts he had had before falling asleep, perhaps they would help him convince Frank. Besides, today was his training day, which meant he was going for a run before breakfast. That was a leftover from his student days. At that time, he was always running with his roommate before the first lecture to wake up properly. He had noticed that this really helped him to wake up early in the morning and he had kept it, even after graduation. Although he didn't go running every day, but twice a week he pushed himself to do so. Like this morning. At a comfortable pace, he ran from his house to the small park nearby and did a lap around the little lake, then went home. That was his favorite track. In the morning, he met nobody who wanted to talk to him and could still enjoy nature in the park.

Back in his apartment, he switched on the coffee machine and went to take a shower while the coffee went through. Mikey wanted to give him a new coffee machine more than once, but Gerard preferred to stick to his good old filter coffee. It just tasted better than a coffee in which the water was squeezed at high pressure through a small pad filled with coffee, or worse, coffee squeezed through these capsules. He had also tuned his rhythm in the shower, exactly to the time in which the coffee went through. So why should he change that? Twenty minutes later, Gerard was sitting at his kitchen table, drinking his coffee and eating cereal when suddenly his cell phone rang. Surprised, since he was rarely called at this time, he took it off the table and looked at the display. Mikey's name flashed there. Smiling, he accepted the call.

"Mornin' baby brother, what's up?", Gerard asked.

"I just wanted to ask when you're going to Frank", Mikey's voice sounded.

Surprised, Gerard frowned. Why did he want to know that?

"Two o'clock, why?"

"Just so I know when you'll be home devastated, so I can come over with a big cup of chocolate ice cream to relieve your heartbreak!", his brother laughed.

"Mikey, sometimes you're really an ass!", Gerard growled but also had to resist a laugh. "I have no heartbreak because of Frank. It just doesn't want to get in my head, why he never takes help, that's all. "

"If you say so! Call me when you get home. After all, I want to know if you could finally persuade him."

"I do, Mikey, don't worry."

"Hear you later!"

And then he had already hung up. Gerard put the phone back on the table and shook his head. In the past, Mikey had thought that he had a crush on Frank and kept making such comments over the years. But he was sure that wasn't true. How was he supposed to fall in love with a person who had absolutely nothing to do with him? Okay, that could happen, but Gerard thought he had a very good grip on his emotional world - and love in particular. Frank was a challenge and old guilt he finally wanted to settle. Nothing more… Again he shook his head to dispel these thoughts and continued eating.

Before he made his way to State Prison, Gerard went shopping. He got food for the whole week and of course a new sketchpad and pens. At the moment he preferred to paint with wooden pencils. It always came in phases. There were times when he only painted with acrylics or watercolor, then again he drew only with charcoal and now it was time for the wooden pencils.

"Have fun with it and you have to show me some of your artworks again", said Lina.

She was the owner of the small art supplies store where Gerard always got his stuff. Even as a teenager, he had always bought his things in this shop and once Lina had even exhibited some of his pictures. She made the offer again and again, but Gerard had the feeling that his new pictures wouldn't appeal to people so much, either because they always showed the same scenery - the sunset - or were very personal. But he always promised Lina to bring some pictures soon.

"Next time, I promise", he said with a smile and grabbed the bag in which his new sketchbook and pens had been stowed.

Half an hour later, he was home again and put his purchases in their place. As he pulled the sketchbook out of the bag, he started laughing, for a small bar of chocolate landed on his kitchen table. Lina used to put chocolate in his bags when she realized he was nervous. That hasn't changed in all these years. With a grateful smile on his lips, he unwrapped the chocolate and bit off a piece. He could always use nerve food, whether he had an appointment in prison or just a normal day. Although he didn't really feel nervous, but he already felt a slight tension. Gerard knew that the chocolate wouldn't dispel that feeling, but the gesture was still nice and he loved chocolate. A glance at the clock made him jump up.

He had to go! There were only a few minutes to change his clothes. He wasn't sure if he should wear something official - like a suit - or something that suited Frank's clothing style. In the end, he chose plain jeans and a black T-shirt. He gathered his long, red hair into a small braid and rolled his eyes once more when he looked in the mirror and saw that some strands were still too short and slipped out of the hair tie. But somehow he didn't care, because he had often received compliments about it. By all accounts, most people liked his hair to be so disheveled and if he was honest with himself, he liked it too.

He put on his sunglasses, then his adventure started. On the way to the State Prison, he heard loud music to calm his nerves a little. It worked very well because he sang along to the songs happily and didn't really think about the conversation that was ahead of him.

_The security measures here are really fierce_ , Gerard thought as he was being scanned for the third time by a security guard.

He wasn't allowed to take sharp objects, including pencils and keys. He also had to hand out his phone at the entrance and even remove his watch. When he asked why he had to put them down, he only got the answer that they had already witnessed the weirdest outbreak attempts. Then he raised his eyebrows in astonishment and wondered how someone wanted to break out of prison with a watch. Before he could enter the room in which he would speak with Frank, he was scanned one last time and laughingly shook his head.

"Do you like that or do you really fear that I've hidden any gun or anything else somewhere?", he asked the question that had been burning on his tongue ever since the second scan.

"These are regulations we have to comply with, sir. I'm sorry", the guard said with a shrug.

Gerard grinned at him and waited until he opened the door that led to the visitors' room. That's what he thought, but the room he entered looked more like an interrogation room. Surprised Gerard looked around, he had not really imagined that, but it was played according to the rules of the prison director and not his. So he sat down on one of the chairs at the table, which had been placed in the middle of the room. He had to wait a few more minutes before the door opened again. Then he finally stood before him. Frank Iero, in orange prison pants and a white muscle shirt. The last time Gerard saw him, he had a mohawk. Now it seemed that the shaved sides had regrown and he wasn't worried about matching the longer hair in the middle of his head to the rest. But what fascinated Gerard most about the man in front of him was the tattoos that covered his arms and neck and he caught himself staring at them.

"Are you _serious_?", an annoyed voice suddenly sounded, which he hadn't heard in years.

He wanted to look Frank in the eye, but he had already turned back to the guard behind him.

"We were about to win and you got me off the field because of _him_? Great work!"

"Johnson's order, not mine", the man merely replied and left the room.

As the door slammed shut, Frank turned back and gave Gerard a scathing look. However, he wasn't impressed by it. He had faced completely different calibers than Frank.

"What do you want, Way? Can't you just leave me alone? Even in prison, you have to put your nose in my affairs?!", Frank snapped, not taking a step away from the door.

"Don't you want to sit down first?", Gerard replied calmly.

For a moment it looked as if Frank wouldn't move. But then he finally came over to the table and sat down on the free chair. He put his crossed hands on the table and glared at Gerard. This was the first time he noticed that Frank was handcuffed. A measure that was common in every prison. He also recognized tattoos on his hands.

"Should I undress, so you can drool about the rest too?", Frank wanted to know with an annoyed snarl when he noticed Gerard's gaze and leaned back in his chair.

"I just think your tattoos are very good, that's all", Gerard said, after clearing his throat. "But that's not why I'm here."

"No shit! I already thought so…"

"I've heard that you have the opportunity to get out of here, but only on the condition that you'll see a psychologist for a year. That's why…"

At that moment, Frank lunged forward again and his gaze pierced into Gerard. For the first time since he knew Frank, an icy shiver ran down his spine. This brief movement alone had expressed so much power as he would never have believed the man possessed.

"Don't say you're a psychologist", Frank growled, giving a harsh laugh as Gerard nodded. "Brilliant! And now that I haven't jumped on your past attempts, you think I'm doing it just to get out of this pigsty one year earlier."

"It's your decision. Nobody forces you to", said Gerard, who had caught himself again. "You can also deal with someone who is not as open about you like I am, or just stay here one more year."

Frank looked at him from narrowed eyes. Gerard could see him thinking about his words and almost smiled maliciously as an expression came into his eyes he knew well. Frank was accepting it, a lot faster than Gerard had thought.

"Fine", Frank leaned over the table again and held out his hand to Gerard. "Deal."

"That simple?", Gerard replied, who thought it had almost gone too easy. "I can also let you continue to rattle down all your good guy arguments and then say that I agree if you feel better."

Now Frank didn't look annoyed anymore, but bored. Gerard hesitated for a moment, then took his hand and almost gasped in pain as Frank squeezed it. The guy had more strength than one would trust him to have. Grinning, because he knew very well that Gerard had not expected such a firm handshake, Frank got up, went over to the door and knocked. It opened immediately and Frank stepped out, but before the door closed again, he stuck his head in and looked at Gerard with that look that sent shivers down his spine.

"I'm looking forward to our meetings."

Then he was gone, leaving a completely confused Gerard still massaging his aching hand.

 

"If I tell you, Mikey!"

"Ten minutes?"

"Yes, only ten minutes, if it had taken that long", Gerard replied, for what felt like the hundredth time.

Mikey just didn't want to believe that Frank had accepted his help so easily. It was hard for him to believe it too, but that was what had happened.

"I don't like that, Gee...", he heard Mikey mumble and rolled his eyes. "That was way too easy. What if he just waited for an opportunity to get out of jail and bugger off? Then you would be a henchman in his escape and also have a legal proceeding on your neck."

"Mikey..."

"That could destroy everything that you have built up! Do you think somebody will invite you to a school to educate about bullying or to keep you working as a psychologist, after such a proceeding? They deprive you of your authorization and then? What do you want to do then? Living from your art?"

"Stop insulting my art!", growled Gerard indignantly. "You know very well that I could live from it for a few months. Besides, I don't think he wants to flee."

"And from where do you take that belief in the good side of this man, dear brother?"

Oh, those words were spoken with so much sarcasm like they hadn't in a long while.

"I don't know Mikey. I just believe in it."

"I wonder how many times he'll have to hurt you until you find out you can't help him!"

With these words, Mikey ended the call and Gerard sighed at the thought that he probably had to deal with this conversation more often in the next few weeks. Mikey would reproach him over and over again that Frank only used him and he just let it happen. But Gerard believed or rather hoped that Frank really wanted to get help. He didn't know where this hope came from, but he would stick to it until Frank finally proved him wrong. But on one point he had to agree with Mikey: the whole thing had been too easy. But whether it was because Frank was planning something or because he finally wanted to change his life, he wouldn't know until Frank was released.


	4. Free!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written from Frank's point of view. Enjoy it :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter y'all! :3

Frank was taken back to the yard and took a deep breath. He couldn't understand why Gerard interfered in his life again and again. Couldn't he just leave him alone ?! It had somehow been understandable at school because he had interfered in every fight there. But his appearance right now...that was a whole new level of his annoying helper syndrome!

"Well, what did the guards want from you?"

A boy appeared in front of Frank and looked at him expectantly. The guy's name was Dave, he was just nineteen and clinging to him like chewing gum as soon as he saw him. Dave was a blithe spirit and Frank often wondered if he had worn the same smile that he always wore when he'd stabbed the young mother who had simply approached him at the wrong time because he was in here for this murder.

"None of your fucking business, Dave!", Frank growled, pushing aside the lean boy who was still standing in his path.

"Oh, come on, Frank! Give me something to talk about! Life in here is so boring...", his counterpart replied theatrically.

Frank rolled his eyes and headed for the basketball court. He hoped the game wasn't over yet. But on the field were other inmates than the ones he had played with. Great! For the first time in three weeks, they had the court and he couldn't even finish the game. Snorting, he went on, looking for his cell neighbor. He knew very well that Dave was still trailing after him. The younger one had only been here for a year, hanging on to anyone who kind of gave him his attention. You couldn't get rid of this idiot that quickly. The only way was to ignore him until he was bored. Dave always needed something to gossip about, and if you gave him nothing, he left to go on someone else's nerves. As it turned out, this wasn't the case on that day. Because Dave ran after him until he found Mark and even sat down with them.

Mark was already seven years in that prison and would probably sit twice as long. He was ten years older than Frank but had a connection to him right from the start. Without this guy, he would probably have gone crazy in this shit hole a long time ago.

"You have something sticking to you", Mark said and laughingly pointed to Dave.

The younger one just grinned and looked at the two. He was really just curious, both Frank and Mark knew that. Many claimed that Dave lacked intelligence, but that wasn't true. He lived by the motto: Be smart, play stupid and he got along with it very well. If you wanted to know anything, and if it was just the menu for the next week, Dave could give you that information. Because everyone thought he was mentally retarded, they told him everything.

"I know", Frank said, grumbling. "Do you have something against it? A baseball bat or something?"

"Hey, I can hear you."

"No shit!", came Frank's annoyed answer. "Do you have a cigarette for me, Mark?"

Mark pulled a cigarette out of his trouser pocket and held it out to Frank. Grinning, he grabbed it and slipped it between his lips. Then he rummaged in his own pocket for matches (which he wasn't allowed to own, but the guards didn't give a shit about it). Lighting up the cigarette, he glanced to the left to see if Dave was still sitting next to them and he did. He somehow liked Dave, but he often got on his nerves. Just like now, because he stared at him as if he was from the moon. If there was one thing that Frank couldn't stand, then it was if someone stared at him in that way.

"Do I have something on my face?", Frank wanted to know, with a hint of anger in his voice and without taking the cigarette from between his lips.

"I just like to watch you smoking..."

"Dude!", it came from Mark, as shot from a gun. "That's something you should keep for yourself, especially in here...What do you mean, the guys from cellblock D do to you if they hear you?"

Dave ducked his head and looked down at the floor. In cellblock D sat the worst of them all. Serial killers, brutal racists, and homophobes, but most of all the sex offenders. They were allowed to the yard at the same time, like the rest of the prison, so it wasn't advisable to say such things. But Dave seemed to forget that regularly. Frank had seen more than once how the kid had been beaten for such sentences.

"Just think such comments in the future...", Frank murmured and took a drag from his cigarette.

He didn't care about those sayings...Even if he'd probably had hit Dave if someone other than Mark had been there. After all, he wasn't allowed to show any weakness here and simply accepting such comments was dangerous if the wrong people heard it. Only last month there had been a fight in which a prisoner was mortally wounded because he admitted being gay. Frank didn't want Dave to give anyone a reason to really beat him or do anything worse with him. He liked the little troublemaker too much for that. Besides, if Dave was in the infirmary, where would he get his information from?

Just as Frank wanted to take another drag of his cigarette, a loud signal echoed across the entire yard. The sign that the time outside was ended for today. Frank looked at his cigarette wistfully, then carefully squeezed it out on the bench and pocketed the rest. In this shit hole, you learned not to be wasteful, no matter what.

Frank saw Mark take a deep breath again, eyes closed, and then get up. He knew why Mark did that, knew the feeling very well. It was the illusion of liberty that they had out there, and they sucked it in as long as they could. Mark and Dave had already disappeared inside the building until Frank finally got up from the bench and trotted behind the other inmates. He felt the need to savor this little bit of liberty right to the end. Otherwise, he would go crazy in that building. He had always been a person who loved his liberty more than anything else. That was why he had signed up for Gerard's deal. He wouldn't be able to stand a year longer in prison.

He entered the building and immediately felt as if he could no longer breathe properly. There was no way to avoid a fight in here...not that he really did or wanted to do that. For that, he needed the little thrill, during a brawl, way too much. But there were times when it was too much for him too. Above all, too many people lived in this small area. He needed his space and that was impossible here. That was why he had wanted to get into an isolation cell.

"Move, Iero!", Tom's voice thundered behind him.

He knew almost every one of the guards by name because he had often attacked them before. Almost each of them had once got a blue eye because they had grabbed him by the arm or pushed him in front of them. If the asses were allowed to treat the inmates like that, then it was his right to return this treatment. That was exactly how he had come to the privilege of an isolation cell. At that time he was in this hole for only five days and didn't think that he would be alive the next week. To go to jail at the age of twenty was one thing...to get stuck in a cellblock where the soap cliché of the shitty prison movies was a reality, quite another. At first, Frank hadn't even dared to take a shower with the others. As fresh meat, you could hear a colorful collection of perverted sayings and there had been some approaches, where he really had to deal with his fear. His luck was that one of the guards had always interrupted. But he knew he wouldn't be able to make it if he had to be in a cell with another guy. Especially since his cellmate had looked like he could rip him in half, as others did with paper. Therefore, and to show everyone that he wasn't the small, weak boy they thought he was, he started a fight with a guard. Jack had been his name and he was still mad at him, even four years later. But Frank didn't blame him for that, after all, he had broken his nose and given a black eye to the bigger one. He himself had come to the infirmary with a few bad bruises, but it had been worth it. Jack was one of the muscular guards and normally Frank would never have messed with him. But he had to make his position clear and this would have to be so high that the others left him alone. The fact that he spent three days in the bunker after the short brawl (which had been ended by another guard, using a truncheon) was alright with him.

The bunker was a small room in the back of the yard, in which you got locked up if you were not behaving. Most of them avoided doing anything that earned them that punishment. However, in the beginning, Frank had often done anything to get in there. Inside the bunker, he had his peace and had to deal with no one, even if it was unbearably hot in the summer and he got food only twice a day and only three times something to drink. However, he quickly discovered that it was relatively easy to divide up the rations for the whole day, so he had almost enjoyed the break.

For a year, however, he had given up this rebellious phase, hoping to be released sooner and his plan had worked. That he had to deal with a psychologist for a year was a small price for his beloved liberty and since this psychologist now turned out to be Gerard Way, he had absolutely no problem with it. Frank was pretty sure he could persuade Way after the second or third meeting to just leave him alone if he would call him once a month. This strange guy really seemed to have a thing for him, which suited Frank very well in this case.

Deep in thought, he went to his cell and squatted there on his bed. His eyes fell on the narrow pillow and he raised an eyebrow. There was something under it and he knew that because it was strangely bulging. Frank glanced toward the cell door to check that no guard was watching him, then picked up the pillow and started to grin when he saw the black book lying there. Mark's gambling debts from the day before. Frank took the book in his hand and opened it. There were no pages filled with words, at least not complete ones. Because someone had cut a square out of the pages so that you could hide something in the book. In this case, there were ten cigarettes, a small box of matches, a narrow roll of white paper, and a pencil. Frank was always wondering where Mark got these things from.

Of course, as well as any other prison, this one had its dealers too, who could get their hands on almost anything. But some things were strictly forbidden here, and yet, Mark seemed to be able to find exactly those items. As much as Frank was pleased with the cigarettes, the white paper and the pencil made his heart beat faster. Paper was something that was traded here, like drugs in the outside world. The same was true for pencils or other writing utensils. If you got a pen, you could really ask for anything. Not because everyone wanted a good pen for writing, no. From the plastic, you could melt great prison knives. But Frank didn't want to cut anyone. He needed the paper and pencil to write down his thoughts. At some point, he had the illusion of earning money with music and started writing lyrics, but then everything went down the drain. Even so, he still wrote and if it was for the very reason of getting the words out of his head. That's how it was on this day. He lay down on his bed, smoothing the paper as best he could and writing down his thoughts.

Only when the signal for dinner sounded, he put the pen aside. He glanced at the cell door again. When there was still no guard to be seen, he slid off the cot and scrambled under it. Under his bed, he had been able to scratch a stone out of the wall, which he now pulled out and stowed the paper and the pen in the empty space behind it. There were all the texts he had written in the last four years. Then he put the stone back in its place and set off for dinner.

 

"Now let's hear what the guards wanted from you earlier", Mark said as Frank sat down at the table.

He took his time with the answer, first looking at the disgusting mush, which was called food in here and only tasted of window putty. Disgusted, he grimaced. Four more weeks, then he would get real food again. He could hardly wait!

"Frank! I don't want to embitter here! What was going on? Don't they let you out of here? ", Mark continued.

"In four weeks I'm out of here and you'll never see me again!", Frank growled.

Mark gave a throaty laugh and he knew why. He wouldn't be the first to utter those words and then squat back in a cell three weeks later. But Frank didn't intend to be one of these men.

"So you set yourself up for a psychologist?"

"Not for just any", Frank grinned. "I told you about this sucker Way. The guy has actually become a psychologist and wants to take over my case voluntarily. That works perfectly! The guy is more than blind when it comes to me."

"I really wish you death, you filthy lucky guy", Mark grumbled, poking around in the mush on his plate.

This time Frank laughed and finally managed to shovel a fork with the mush into his mouth. Even after four years, every fiber of his body wanted to resist this food. He knew that Mark didn't really wish him death. Mark was jealous, he was aware of that, they had talked about it often enough.

"What do you do first when you get out of here?", Mark suddenly asked.

The cheerful mood changed with this sentence and became serious. No one talked about this, not even when they were about to finally leave this hole behind. They all knew how fast the tide could turn. So it was better not to worry about that. It was better not to have any hopes that could dissolve into smoke within a blink of an eye. Still, everyone had that one thought, even if they didn't share it with anyone. Everyone knew what they wanted to do first when they were free again.

"We're not talking about that...", Frank murmured, shaking his head.

"I'm not getting out of here, man and you know that", Mark replied. "Tell me."

"You're going to laugh at me."

Mark shook his head, but Frank knew it. His first wish in liberty was certainly nothing anyone wanted. It was so trivial that he couldn't believe it himself.

"I...I'll eat an apple", Frank finally said, smiling in anticipation of Mark's judgment.

"That's cool, man, really."

Mark returned the smile and with that, the topic was off the table. They talked about cellblock D having a new one and the guy was the last piece of shit. Then Dave came to their table and brought the latest prison gossip. At this point, Frank zoned out from the conversation. He didn't want to hear more from this place, as absolutely necessary.

 

For the next four weeks, his thoughts were focused on getting out of the hole and the closer the day came, the more he thought about it. He didn't know where to sleep or how he should ever get to his neighborhood. He hadn't had any money when they brought him here. He would probably have to walk. Maybe he could sleep at Lars', he had often let him sleep at his place. Then he needed a job to earn money and, worst of all, he had to call Gerard. His lawyer had said that if the first psychological report wasn't on his desk by the weekend, they would put him back in prison. Then it was finally time. The four weeks were over, he would finally leave this shit hole. In a few minutes, he regained his liberation and the anticipation made him dizzy.

"Man, you look like you're going to tip out off your socks", Mark tore him out of his thoughts.

He stood in the doorway of his cell, leaning against the metal bars. Frank ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head, while Mark walked over and sat down next to him.

"I feel like before my first time", Frank replied honestly, his voice trembling with excitement.

"Oh, you already did it?", the older one laughed, put an arm around his shoulders and ruffled through his hair with his other hand.

"Hard to believe, right?"

Now they both laughed. This was a rare moment, one in which no suppressed anger or exaggerated wariness boiled beneath the surface, one in which they just laughed without worrying about others. None of them was tense and scared that someone saw them so familiar. In jail, you couldn't let your guard down like that. The others were waiting for that. If you dropped your guard, they were there to finish you off. But right now, in this cell, they couldn' care less.

"Iero", suddenly a voice thundered and made them both wince.

Jack stood in front of his cell and scowled at them. Frank rolled his eyes. Hadn't they found another guard to get him out? That was shit. The situations in which Jack and he clashed, escalated as good as every time. That was the moment his chance could burst. Mark seemed to have noticed how he tensed and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Don't let yourself go crazy, you'll show it to the asshole", he whispered with a smile, then his voice grew louder again. "And don't let me see you here again! Oh and eat an apple for me."

"Sure, I'll do that", said Frank, getting up. "Phone me, if you come out of here, too."

Mark laughed, but nodded and left his cell.

"Do you want to stay here or what?", Jack growled annoyed.

"Only if I get to see your pretty face every day."

"Don't drive it too far, you little rat."

Frank grinned challengingly and then walked past the guard. Only a few moments separated him from his independence, he had to be calm now and not make any mistakes. He had to stay calm no matter what Jack said or did. Jack walked after him until they came to the first security door, which he had to unlock. Just as it fell into the lock behind Frank, a shout came from behind him. Sighing, he turned and saw Dave come running towards the door.

"You really want to leave without saying goodbye?", shouted the younger one, and there was something in his voice that Frank couldn't interpret.

"I didn't have time anymore, I'm sorry", he replied, and that was true.

The next moment he looked at Dave in confusion because he had stretched out a hand through the bars of the security door. It looked like he was holding something in it. Frank held his own hand under Dave's and he opened his. Something small and silver fell in Frank's hand. On closer inspection, he realized that it was an old coin. His confusion grew even more.

"What's this?"

"A little keepsake...a lucky charm", Dave said smiling. "I got it from my dad and he told me to give it away when I feel like I don't need it anymore."

"You probably need more luck in here than I do outside."

"Yeah, the thing is", he said, in an unfamiliar serious tone. "In here I know what to expect. No one knows what's waiting for you out there. That's why you need it more than I and that you'll never end up in jail again."

Frank wanted to say something when he was grabbed by the arm and pulled down the corridor.

"I don't have all day", Jack spat, pushing him forward until Frank walked fast enough.

He clenched his fists and clenched his teeth so he wouldn't say anything to the guard. He had only a few minutes to master, then he was a free man and could say what he wanted. These minutes, however, lasted as long as hours. He had to hand over his prison clothes and got back his stuff, which he had possessed at the time of his brought here. Which only consisted of his clothes, some leather bracelets, and his old cell phone. In an adjoining room, he changed and found that the clothes of four years ago still fit him. He put Dave's coin in one trouser pocket, his phone in the other, along with the lyrics he'd smuggled in his socks. He couldn't use his phone since it was only the phone - without a charging cable and the battery had probably already been at the end after a day in the storage box. As he stepped out of the adjoining room, he wore black jeans, with large holes at his knees, and a black T-shirt, which was slit in some places and backed with red fabric. He had also put on the leather bracelets and, for the first time in four years, felt well in his skin again.

"I forgot this", said the woman, who was sitting in the barred room, where all the belongings of the inmates were kept and handed him a beige envelope.

Frank took it and wondered why it was so heavy until he opened it. In it was a thin iron chain, held together at the ends with a small padlock. Smiling, he wrapped it around his neck and handed the envelope back.

"Forgot that I was wearing it that day", he said, more to himself than to anyone else.

"That happens many times."

Next, he got an electronic ankle bracelet from Jack. He had to wear it for a year so they could see where he went and he wouldn't try to settle in any other country. So he hadn't got all his independence back. But he didn't intend to break with his conditions, so they should go ahead with something like that. He smirked at Jack again, then turned to the right. Ten steps! Ten steps separated him from his independence. The closer he got to the front door, the faster his heart pounded. Then he finally opened the iron door and stepped into the forecourt of the prison. The sun was shining on him, and though he had only been sitting in the yard a few hours earlier, it seemed to him like he hadn't felt it on his skin for years.

"Free at last", he whispered and set off for the city.

 

It took him two hours to get to his neighborhood and another half an hour to finally reach Lars' apartment. At that point, his feet felt like he had been walking for two days. Lars' apartment was on the third floor and it took a long time until the door was finally opened. A guy a good three heads taller than him, bald and with muscles like a bodybuilder was standing in front of him.

"Frank?", he asked in disbelief, staring at him.

"Can I sleep here for a while?", he wanted to know immediately.

"Sure, come in."

Lars took a step to the side so that Frank could walk past him. After the door was closed, Lars' powerful arm wrapped around his shoulders and he gave him a headbutt. Frank gasped painfully and tried to free himself from the arm, which went more than wrong.

"How are you? What have you been doing over the last few years?", Lars asked, pulling him into his living room.

"Perched in jail, Lars and you know that very well!", Frank growled and finally managed to free himself from him, but only because he allowed it.

Lars laughed and dropped into an armchair. Frank sat down on the couch and didn't even know what he wanted there. But Lars was his only chance for a decent sleeping place until he had found something better.

"I thought you had five years", Lars broke the silence and started to roll a cigarette.

"Got out a year earlier due to good conduct."

He kept the deal with the psychologist to himself. Lars didn't like these headshrinkers and would be annoyed for hours.

"What are you planning now?"

Frank shrugged. He didn't know that himself.

"Seek a job and keep quiet so I don't end up in jail again. Four years were enough."

"So you just have to be more careful, because there are enough jobs here."

Frank shook his head but didn't look at Lars. His eyes were down, knowing exactly how his counterpart would react to his next words.

"I didn't mean such jobs. I want to earn honest money and not steal anymore."

"You want to abandon your gang?", Lars yelled, just as Frank had feared. "I don't think so, dude! Then you can leave immediately. There is no room for traitors on my couch!"

Frank felt his heart beat faster. At the first weeks at the jail, he had often been afraid of the larger, stronger prisoners, even though he would never willingly admit it. But he had always known that the guards would intervene before it was too late. Here, in Lars's apartment, there was no one to intervene when he got one of his famous tantrums. Earlier, Frank had stood behind him when he had beaten others in his rage. But now he himself was the cause of this anger, and he knew that Lars also beat his own people to the hospital. Somehow he had to calm him down again.

"I'm not letting you down...Just...just give me one or two weeks to get used to my liberty again. I don't feel like returning to that shit hole after a week!"

Lars looked at him with threatening eyes, then a wicked grin appeared on his lips, making Frank tremble. He knew that grin, had seen it often enough. Lars would set him a time limit and then he would probably find himself in the hospital unless he really took part in the job.

"Next week, a break at Main Street is going to happen. Something easy, the owners of the house are away. In and out within an hour. We know exactly where they hide their money and everything else precious. You're in or you go swimming", growled his counterpart.

Frank nodded. So he was part of the job because he had no desire to be drowned in the river by Lars. 'Cause that's what it meant to go swimming. So much for don't do anything stupid.

"Good boy."

Frank clenched his fists when he heard these words. That's what he'd always heard from his stepfather when he did something he himself didn't want just so he wouldn't get beaten up. Lars knew that very well and yet he used these words over and over again.

"Can I use your phone?", Frank changed the subject otherwise, the situation would certainly escalate because he couldn't bear to be reminded of his stepfather.

"Sure."

Lars threw his cell phone at him and then left the room to do something in the kitchen. Frank didn't care what he did, only that he wasn't in the same room when he called into Way's practice. He took another deep breath, then punched in the number his lawyer had told him - thank god, he had such a good number memory. It took a few seconds for the call to be answered.

"Psychological practice Gerard Way, Way on the phone", came a familiar voice.

"Just say you can't even afford a secretary...you really have to be a shitty psychologist", laughed Frank, shaking his head.

"Judging by the insults, you are Iero, right?"

"You're quite a smart one, Gerard."

For a moment it was quiet and Frank grinned to himself because he believed to have made the other once more speechless. But then he heard a chuckle.

"Only that I'm not Gerard, but his brother Mikey, you genius!"

Right, there were two of them, though Mikey had never really cared about him. Frank shrugged.

"So your brother really can't afford a secretary", he laughed. "How shitty do you have to be as a psychologist, that you can't even hire a girl for everything and have to ask his brother for it?"

"You don't have to come here if he's too bad for you. In fact, you would do me a favor with it and Gerard too, even if he doesn't want to admit that."

Oh, Gerard's brother would be a lot of fun, that's for sure. Because it was clear that they already didn't like each other.

"Give me an appointment and stop telling me what I should do and what not."

"Tomorrow, eleven o'clock. Is the only free appointment for this week."

"Good, I'm looking forward to it."

Then he ended the call and put the phone on the table. Eleven o'clock...Luckily he had gotten used to getting up early for four years. Nothing had gotten him out of bed before one o'clock before he was in prison. He had no desire to lie down on the couch at Gerard's practice, certainly not on the second day of his newfound liberty. Tomorrow was Thursday and Gerard's report had to be on the desk of his lawyer not later than Saturday, so he had no choice. Frank lowered his head to the back of the couch and closed his eyes for a moment. Liberty was stressful, but he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.


	5. First session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on it goes: What you can do if it's stormy outside and you have no internet because of that? You can write a new chapter. Thank god it's all over, so I can upload it. I would really love to read what you think about this story :3

After four weeks of trying to convince Gerard not to accept the case, Frank finally contacted them. Yesterday, Mikey had come to his office and was furiously complaining about how impossible Frank was behaving. When Gerard wanted to know how he knew that, Mikey had just scowled at him for almost five minutes. Only then did he tell him that Frank had called and made an appointment. The following day, at eleven o'clock. Gerard raised an eyebrow and asked why the appointment was so early. Usually, they didn't make appointments that early. Mikey just replied that he only wanted to piss him off.

"You're unbelievable", Gerard had laughed and then his work called him again.

And now it would be only five minutes before Frank's appointment began. But the five minutes became ten and finally fifteen. Gerard couldn't deny that he was a little worried. Hopefully, nothing had happened to Frank.

"Did you happen to make a note of his number?", he asked Mikey, drumming his fingers on the counter behind which his brother sat.

"I didn't...Can you stop it? You make me nervous! If he isn't coming, it's not that much of a loss."

"Are you talking about me?", sounded a familiar voice.

"Speaking of the devil", Mikey growled glaring at Frank.

Gerard's face, however, brightened when he saw the younger one. Once again he was fascinated by Frank's appearance. His hair was slightly messy as if he hadn't combed it. He wore torn trousers and a black shirt one which he hadn't closed the top buttons. The piece of skin that you could see was, like so many parts of Frank's body, decorated with a tattoo. Gerard's smile widened as he realized what was written there: 'Let Love In' in a mirrored font so that Frank could read it whenever he stood in front of a mirror.

"Man, I think I really have to take off my clothes so you can look at all my tattoos", Frank growled, tearing Gerard out of his thoughts. "Then you might stop staring at me like that."

Gerard cleared his throat and glanced at Mikey. He still scowled at his new patient. The comment hadn't brought Frank any sympathy points with him. But Mikey didn't have to deal with him.

"That will not be necessary, Frank", Gerard replied, pointing to the door behind him. "You can come in."

Frank walked past Mikey and into the room Gerard had pointed to, with a fat grin on his face. Gerard was about to follow him when Mikey grabbed him by the arm.

"Don't take anything from him and call me, if he is making any trouble."

"Don't worry, Mikey. He isn't my first with that kind of behavior."

"No, but the first where you don't act objectively."

Gerard shook his head and turned to his office. Frank hadn't closed the door, which made Gerard raise his eyebrows in astonishment. Actually, he had expected that he wanted to isolate himself as much as possible from him. But that didn't seem to be the case. Once Gerard entered the room, he stopped at the door and crossed his arms over his chest. Frank was sitting on his desk, legs wide apart and leaning forward so he could rest his forearms on his thighs. He looked at Gerard with a grin, and he could have sworn that, just a few seconds ago, only two buttons of his shirt were open and not three, as it was now. That would be a long hour.

"So Doc, how's this going?", Frank asked, as Gerard finally closed the door behind him. "I'll tell you about my terrible childhood and you tell me that this is the reason why my whole life was going down the drain?"

He jumped from the table and walked to the comfortable couch, which was in the left part of the room. He let himself fall on it, folded his arms behind his head. Then he looked grinning at Gerard again. However, he didn't intend to go into his games. He had to stay professional, even if Frank teased him.

"Actually, I wanted to start differently," he replied and sat down on one of the two leather chairs in front of his desk.

Frank looked at him a bit puzzled and when he didn't continue, he got up from the couch and sat down next to him. Gerard made a mental note, that silence was maybe getting more out Frank than a thousand words. Then he smiled at his counterpart and asked his first question.

"What kind of feeling was it to leave prison?"

Frank groaned. That was exactly the question he had expected first.

"Well, I just felt lighter when the door closed behind me after our meeting."

"You were only minutes in there. You have no idea what it feels like to be able to leave that shit hole after four years", Frank growled.

Gerard gave him a triumphant smile. That's exactly what he wanted to hear. Only then did Frank realize that he had been tricked.

"It felt great. Better than anything else...as if I could breathe freely again for the first time in years", Frank mumbled, surprised by himself by saying the truth.

Gerard's smile became gentle and happy. He was pleased that Frank had given him an honest answer and that in their first meeting! Actually, he would have thought that his counterpart would shut up completely and tell nothing. Maybe that was a sign that he really wanted to change.

"Do you have a place to sleep?", Gerard asked after a few minutes of silence.

Frank looked at him steadily and there was something in his eyes that could have been interpreted as fear. But what should he be afraid of?

"I can sleep at friends apartment", he murmured, lowering his eyes and staring at his hands.

There was his fear! This friend was probably less of a real friend and more someone who was frightening Frank. But Gerard couldn't just say that just now. He knew that Frank wouldn't talk about his fears yet. The younger was far too proud for that. The theme would repeat another time. In the meantime, he simply hoped that this friend wouldn't do anything to Frank and that Frank wouldn't be persuaded to any stupidity.

"That's...good", he said instead, and then he remembered something. "Say, every prisoner has one thing he really wants to do, when he gets out of jail. What was yours?"

"Go to the next strip club", Frank grinned.

"Come on, you can at least put more effort in it if you are lying. That's almost an insult to me."

Frank gritted his teeth and looked at his hands again. Gerard could see that he was unsure and was about to ask another question when Frank answered him.

"I wanted to eat an apple", he whispered.

"And?"

Now Frank looked at him again and his eyes were so depressed that Gerard felt a sting in his chest. This little thing seemed so important to Frank that he couldn't hide his feelings behind the otherwise so hard facade.

"I...have no money and there are no fruits in Lars' apartment. So it has to wait."

Gerard didn't need three seconds to make his next decision. He got up, went to his desk and opened the top drawer. From it, he got his wallet and put it in his back pocket. Then he walked to the door and opened it a bit before he noticed that Frank just looked at him skeptically.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?"

Instead of answering, Gerard just left the room and told Mikey that he would take a walk with Frank. Mikey didn't like that, but Gerard didn't care. As he suspected, Frank came out of the room only a few moments later and wanted to know again where they were going. But Gerard didn't really answer him. He only said that they went for a walk.

"The weather is nice. We shouldn't just sit in here, but enjoy the sun", was all he said to him as they walked down the street.

Frank had his hands buried in his pockets and looked at the sidewalk all the time. Gerard thought he was a little nervous. After four years in prison, he could fully understand that. But there was something else in his attitude that he couldn't interpret. But Gerard was confident that sooner or later he would solve Frank's little secrets.

"You know, if somebody in my neighborhood wants to go for a walk with you, you either wake up in the hospital or not at all", Frank suddenly said in a firm voice.

At that moment, his posture changed again. He straightened up more, keeping an eye on his surroundings as if he'd just realized they were out outside. There was slight aggression in his voice, though he had no reason to be aggressive. Gerard knew this behavior. Frank had an image to defend. If anyone from his neighborhood saw him, just walking and laughing along the street, with a man who apparently came from the richer part of the city, he'd probably be beaten up...or worse. So he had to play the tough, unapproachable guy to save his skin. Gerard hadn't considered it in his plan, but he certainly wouldn't change it.

"With me, neither one nor the other will happen to you, promise."

Frank grunted something that Gerard couldn't understand and continued to look around. Gerard smiled as he saw Frank raise his eyebrows in confusion. They were on their way to a part of the city where there were some small grocery stores where Gerard liked to go shopping. He led Frank to a store that sold only fruits and told him to wait a moment. He went in and bought apples.

"I don't accept alms from you", Frank snapped, as Gerard held out an apple to him.

"These are not alms", Gerard replied, because he saw that Frank wanted the apple very well.

His eyes were glued to the fruit, like others would look at thousand dollars. Gerard had to wrap his intention properly, then he would accept the apple without his pride being scratched.

"I wanted fruits and the apples from here are truly divine", he said, biting off a bit of his own. "However, I have no intention of eating anything when I'm with someone who doesn't eat. So, please."

"You can tell that to someone who believes you."

Frank looked at him annoyed, but Gerard just shrugged.

"If you don't want it, I'll just give it to someone else", he said, looking around.

Right next to them stood a little girl and looked at the fruits. Gerard wanted to look for someone else, when the mother told the little one, that they had no money and that they had to wait a few days before they could buy fruit again. He smiled and leaned down to the girl.

"Here, little one, you can have", he said, holding out the apple. "I actually bought it for my friend, but he doesn't want it."

"Is that really okay?", the girl's mother asked, looking at Frank.

Gerard could see him biting his lip for a moment and then merely nodding. She took a step toward Frank and took his hand.

"Thank you", she said happily. "That's so nice...It might just be an apple to you, but Mia loves fruit and unfortunately, I can't buy her much."

"No problem", Frank mumbled, looking slightly irritated at the woman until she let go of his hand.

They saw little Mia biting into the apple, smiling happily, and when Gerard cast a sneaky glance at Frank, he realized that he, too, was smiling. Mia and her mother thanked them again, then turned and walked down the street.

"Wow", Gerard said, placing a hand on Frank's shoulder.

"What?", he replied, grabbing Gerard's hand and pulling it down from his shoulder.

"I didn't know you could be so kind."

Frank gave him a derogatory look.

"First, you gave the apple to the kid, not me", he said. "And second, what should I have done according to your insinuation? Stealing an apple from a five-year-old girl?"

"Well, the way you sometimes behave, I'd believe you'd do that right away."

Frank snorted and shook his head, heading in the direction they had come from. Gerard cocked his head and watched him for a moment before following him. When he caught up with him, he held another apple out to Frank again.

"Do you take it this time?"

Again, Frank bit his lip and at that moment Gerard's attention was drawn to a small metal ring on his lower lip. Why hadn't he noticed before, that Frank had a piercing? Gerard was torn from his thoughts as Frank took the apple from his hand. Smiling, he watched him, as he bites into the apple, with his eyes closed and an expression on his face, even happier than the girl before. It was only then, that it came to Gerard's mind, that this was probably the first apple Frank had been eating for four years. At first, he wanted to say something, but then decided against it and just watched Frank, as he ate his apple with pleasure. It wasn't long before he finished and Gerard grinned as Frank licked the last bit of fruit juice from his lips.

"May I ask you something?", Frank asked without looking at Gerard.

"Sure."

"Why are you always staring at me like that?"

Somewhat embarrassed, Gerard lowered his eyes. Honestly, he would like to know that too. He could only explain it with the thought that Frank fascinated him...for whatever reason. Maybe it was the tattoos, maybe his way of moving. He really didn't know it.

"I...I don't know", he admitted honestly, folding his hands behind his head. "I think I find you just fascinating."

"Oh yes, broken people are always very fascinating", came the sarcastic answer.

"That's not what I meant...How am I supposed to explain it so it doesn't sound creepy?"

"Just explain it. Nothing is as creepy as the comments in jail, believe me."

"Well, it's like that", Gerard began, not even knowing what he wanted to say with his explanation. "I just think your personality is fascinating. The way in which you speak and don't let anyone tell you what to do. Also, I love to admire the tattoos of others and you have quite a lot. When I think about it, I just like watching other people...That's an occupational disease."

He laughed softly and dared to look at Frank again. He raised an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly. Did he want to hear more explanations? Gerard didn't have more.

"That's it?", Frank finally asked.

"Yes…"

"I thought your explanation would get worse. Like perverted worse."

"There are people who find such an explanation creepy", Gerard replied and grinned crookedly.

"If you go to jail at the age of twenty, you'll get quite different things to hear", Frank replied. "Especially if you're the youngest."

Gerard made air jumps n his mind. It had probably been a good idea to leave the practice. Frank would apparently never have talked about these things if they had stayed there. Such a practice always had something official...Gerard had many patients who didn't talk to him at first because they were just too nervous in those rooms. Outside, however, you could tell yourself that the whole thing was just a simple conversation. That's exactly what Frank seemed to be thinking right now.

"If the old sacks there talk constantly about fucking the fresh meat to unconsciousness, then your explanation is more harmless than a fluffy bunny."

"That must have been terrible", Gerard replied, visibly shocked by the statement.

He had known that the prison wasn't nice nor friendly. Everyone knew that. In movies, such threats and intimidation methods were heard more often, but he had always believed that this was only the case to exaggerate the fact that prison was no picnic. Even though he knew it could be a reality, he thought the guards would stop it. Did Frank ever really get raped? But the guards surely wouldn't have allowed that.

"It was", Frank nodded, then a grin appeared on his face, that a shiver was running down Gerard's back. "Until I broke the nose of one of the guards."

"What?", Gerard looked at the younger one in disbelief.

He raised his eyes to look him in the eye. Gerard felt as if Frank would tell him something the next moment, that was so important to survival, like nothing else. And maybe it was for him.

"In this situation, you have exactly two options", he said, his voice sounding more confident than ever. "Either you hit another, bigger prisoner and take the risk that everyone else gets involved and they hate you because the guards interfere with their nightsticks...or you choose one of the strongest guards and you hope you're fast enough to really hurt him before he is realizing what's happening. "

Then suddenly Frank stopped and looked down at the floor.

"Or option number three", he mumbled. "You do what they want and become the new jail slut."

"Did you...", Gerard blurted out not thinking twice, but he didn't finish the question.

"I decide with which guy I'm going to fuck and I don't let myself be handed around like a bottle of vodka", Frank growled angrily, then his voice went flat. "But I've met two boys in those four years who didn't have so much self-preservation and who were transferred to a psychiatric facility after five weeks because they were trying to kill themselves."

"But the guards..."

This time Gerard was interrupted by Frank's bitter laugh. He scowled at him and Gerard knew immediately that he had said something wrong.

"Guards can interrupt only when they see it and when it's not in agreement. Sex isn't forbidden in jail and it's only suppressed if one disagrees, but in both cases, it was hard to say...In fact, it always sounded like and looked like it was fun for everyone involved - the guards' hands are tied in such a case..."

"That's terrible!", said Gerard, who was seriously shocked at how the prisoners dealt with each other.

Frank laughed again and shook his head. When he looked at Gerard, there was an almost condescending expression in his eyes, like he seemed more than stupid to him.

"For such a great psychologist, you have little idea of the seriousness of life. But I suppose that happens when you never really have to work for something because you have such great parents as you, who can get almost anything you want."

Ouch...That had hurt and if Gerard was honest with himself (and pushed his professional attitude aside), Frank had just managed to make him angry. That was something completely new! But when it came to his job or his parents, Gerard didn't understand any fun.

"I also had to work for my current status", he replied indignantly. "I've had to work alongside my studies to finance it and the job of a psychologist is no picnic. You always take home some work and from seven days a week, I can't fall asleep five or wake up in the middle of the night, because I dream of what my patients tell me...Not to mention that I have to deal with school principals and sponsors more and more often and go to these neighborhood meetings to get at least a little bit of attention to my projects..."

"Poor Gerard", Frank interrupted again, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I had no idea how hard your life is! Who am I to talk to you about my problems? As a kid, I was just violated by my father, I had to keep stealing to get myself food and never got the chance to live a normal life because you can't just get out of a gang!"

With that, he turned away from Gerard and trudged across the street without really paying attention to the traffic.

"Wait, I didn't mean...That was complaining at a high-level, I know", Gerard called after him, but Frank didn't care.

Gerard had to wait a few moments before he could walk across the street, 'cause he wasn't suicidal and didn't want to run between the moving cars. By that time, he had almost lost sight of Frank. He could barely see him turn around a corner into a side street, then he had disappeared out of his sight. Gerard ran after him and finally caught up with him in the alley.

"I'm sorry", he said breathlessly and put a hand on Frank's shoulder. "I shouldn't let my personal feelings slip in conversations with my clients, no matter how angry I am."

Frank whirled around and pushed Gerard against the chest, shoving him against the nearest wall. Then a fist landed, with a dull thud, right beside his face. Gerard had closed his eyes and didn't open them until he heard Frank's dark laugh. When he looked at him, he recognized the dangerous glint in his eyes, which he hadn't seen since the schoolyard so many years ago.

"You wouldn't stand a day in my life, Mr. Perfect", growled Frank. "I don't care if you let out your personal feelings when I'm forced to talk to you, but don't cry at me about your hard life. You have no idea how hard it can actually be and now leave me alone. Our hour is over and I still have to take care of other things than to keep myself from constantly beating you!"

Gerard wanted to say something, Frank saw that, but his threatening gaze seemed to keep him from doing so. Finally, Frank turned away from him and continued walking down the alley. He could hear Gerard let out the held air and if he hadn't been so angry he would probably have laughed out loud. After all these years he was still afraid of him. That was important information that he might need later on. But now he felt the need to beat something or someone and frankly, he couldn't find an explanation why he hadn't just beaten Gerard.

Growling, he kicked a rock out of the way and buried his hands in his pockets. Why had he even told Gerard so much? He had decided not to say anything. But the other had something about him that made him talk. Had that been the same before? He couldn't remember ever giving him answers to his questions, except in the form of threats and beatings. But why did he do it now? Why was he getting into it now...and why was he angry with himself because the situation with Gerard had just escalated?

Because he's your chance to change your fucking life, a voice whispered in his mind.

It was true that Gerard was this chance, but that doesn't mean that he had to listen to how hard his life was. Frank used to know a lot about him. His parents belonged to the upper class, they had money and Gerard had always arrived with the newest clothes and stuff. Frank was sure he never had to do anything for it and he had hated Gerard for that! He had always had everything and always intervened without knowing what it was all about. Most of the fights he'd had on the schoolyard were because someone had laughed at him for his dirty clothes or because someone made a stupid comment on his bruises. Gerard had always interfered and tried to protect the others from Frank, but they deserved to be beaten. They had no idea what was going on at his house! They hadn't known his stepfather was beating him or that he didn't dare to wash his clothes, afraid that this bastard would lock him up in the basement for days again, where their washing machine had been.

Suddenly he felt dizzy and he had to stop. With trembling legs, he squatted down and leaned his back against the wall behind him. That hadn't happened to him for a long time. Previously, the memories of his stepfather had always triggered such reactions. But after he left home and joined Lars, it got better. It had still taken years until he didn't react so badly. But this memory was one of the worst.

He'd been thirteen at the time and gone to the basement to wash his stepfather's clothes. As he stuffed them into the washing machine, he heard the door slam shut. He didn't think anything of it, sometimes it just did that. After starting the machine, he walked up the stairs and tried to open the door, but it didn't move. He had shaken the door harder, but it just didn't open. He started beating and calling for his stepfather, but he didn't respond. Frank couldn't say how long he had called until he finally heard footsteps outside the door. By this time, his left hand had already burst in some places because he hit the door as hard as he could.

"That happens if you don't wash my clothes properly and clean up!", his stepfather had growled.

"But I would never..."

"There was a stain on my white shirt and you didn't fold the black pants properly! Maybe you'll learn it if you stay in there for a while! "

And that was the last thing he had heard from his stepfather for five days. In the end, he had beaten his both hands bloody and couldn't talk for three days because he had screamed for help. He was sure that he would have died of thirst if not for a few bottles of old beer in the basement. Even though Frank knew back then that you shouldn't drink this stuff out of thirst, but what else could he do? He had drunk only when he couldn't stand it anymore. He didn't want to be drunk while he was locked up in the cellar. When his stepfather finally let him out, first he had hit him in the face for drinking two bottles of beer and then because he hadn't taken care of the clothes in the washing machine. Then he left the cellar again and left Frank lying next to the washing machine.

It had taken almost another half a day until he found the strength to drag himself up the basement stairs and into the kitchen to finally be able to eat something. What he didn't know then, was that he shouldn't eat too much at once. He had just stuffed everything in and less than an hour later he had vomited as much, as never before. After these five days, he had never again overlooked a stain on his stepfather's clothes and had always folded them up perfectly. He didn't want to be locked up again in the basement, which he entered only when his father was not at home...and even then, only with a pounding heart and a mild panic attack.

Frank slow to pull himself out of his memory. There had been times when he sat somewhere for hours, staring into the distance, caught in the horror of his childhood. But he had also put that down in prison because if you weren't paying attention, you could also write 'punching bag' on your forehead.

"Pull yourself together", Frank growled to himself, banging his head against the wall behind him. "The ass has been in control of you long enough, do not let him regain it."

He forced himself to get up and walk on because he felt like losing control if he remained seated. It was as if his past would catch up with him if he didn't move on. But he didn't know where to go, because he had decided to spend as little time as possible in Lars' apartment and thus in his presence. He would just walk around the city for a while. Maybe he found a store where a temporary help was wanted. He hadn't given up his plan to earn money in an honest way, even though Lars kept telling him that he wouldn't succeed.

Frank wondered how long it would take him to believe him.


End file.
